


The Thanksgiving Miracle

by LifeLover



Category: British Actor RPF, X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Insecure!James, M/M, Miracle on 34th Street is the most awesome movie ever!, Thanksgiving, holiday fic, worried!Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 07:39:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeLover/pseuds/LifeLover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuck in an airport, Michael is going to miss his and James first Thanksgiving together.  But ... a small miracle happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thanksgiving Miracle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luninosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/gifts).



> Gifted to luninosity. This took forever to write, although the whole fic was done in my head in one day. Anyway, I hope you like it.

This, Michael reflected, was not how he’d planned to spend Thanksgiving.

 

He shifted uncomfortably upon the hard plastic airport seat, the background chatter of dozens of voices buzzing senselessly through his ears.  His duffel bag strap dug sharply into part of his thigh and with a stifled groan, he shifted the bag.

 

He’d planned on spending Thanksgiving with James actually.  James, for some reason, loved Baltimore and owned a small cottage-like house there.  Michael, who’d been off in Minnesota filming his new part had planned on catching a flight to Baltimore and being with James.  Eating the turkey and cranberries for dinner, pecan pie for dessert.  Snuggling up together by the fire after, James with cinnamon-flavored coffee.  They’d watch “Miracle on 34th Street.” The original version with Edmund Gwenn colourized, it being James’ favourite Thanksgiving movie.  Maybe then they’d have slow, sweet sex.

 

Instead, it was all falling apart, every fucking piece of it.  All because of the snow.  All because of Minnesota’s famous winters that overextended into Wisconsin, leaving him stuck in the Milwaukee airport.  Waiting and hoping for at least a flight back to Minnesota before the snow completely stalled everything.

 

Staring at nothing in particular, Michael let himself remember the phone conversation about an hour ago before, when he’d had to tell James the news …

 

 

_“Michael! How’s the flight going? Are you about to get on the plane? I knew it was delayed, but it can’t have been for too long, right?”_

_“I can’t make it, James.”_

_“What?”_

_“Shit, I hate this.  I can’t get there, James.  All flights are cancelled because of the early snow.  I can’t – I can’t be there.”_

_“....”_

_“James? James, you there? I – please be there.  And all right.  Or … not all right. But will be alright. Right? James, I … shit! James, **please?** ”_

_“…i’m fine. you sure?”_

_“I – yeah.”_

_“…oh.”_

_“Oh God, James. I’m sorry! I’m so fuckin’ sorry!  I should’ve – I …”_

_“It’s fine. It’s not your fault, honestly.  You can’t control the weather.  Tell it not to snow.”_

_“I – I would, for you.  You know that, right James?  I love you.  So fucking much.  I just-”_

_“I’m fine. I love you too.  I – I’ve got to go, k? I’ll talk to you later.”_

_“I – you sure. Okay, okay, you’re sure.  I – I love you, James.”_

_“Love you too …”_

 

 

 

Michael was brought abruptly out of his memory as the word “Baltimore” registered behind him.  He paused and focused his attention on the desk.  After a couple more seconds, the realization struck him.  One more flight. James. One last flight to Baltimore.  James.  One more chance.

 

**James.**

 

Before he realized it, Michael was at the counter and the woman was transferring his ticket onto an empty seat.  And then he was stowing his duffel in the airbin and seating in his seat.  He tried calling James, but received a busy signal. Line off the hook.  He tried James’ cell and was taken to voicemail.  Slightly worried, he left a message.

 

Throughout the flight, he wondered why James hadn’t answered.  No, fuck that.  He knew why and mentally slapped himself.  It was because of Thanksgiving.  James, while having a childish glee for all holidays, loved Thanksgiving especially.  Loved the idea of feeling grateful for the things in his life he did have, because James had terrible self-esteem.  Doubts and uncertainties constantly eroding at that bright core made of stardust.  The ugliness and pettiness of the world held at bay by big blue eyes and a Scottish accent and flavored coffee.  It was their first Thanksgiving as a couple and James had wanted to them to spend it together.  Had yearned for it with a quiet intensity and insistent longing.  Even if Michael was coming now, he’d hurt James.  Michael felt the shame blossom hot and heavy in his stomach.  He would fix this.  No matter what it took, he would fix it.

 

After his flight landed, he tried calling James again as he waited for a taxi.  James didn’t answer. Not then and not during the number of times he called during the taxi ride to the house, worry coiling in his gut.

 

Michael paid the taxi and let himself quietly into the house.  All the lights were off and the dark pushed against him, the intruder.  Moving into the living room, he saw that a fire was still burning, but the logs crackled angrily and the flames leapt as if to burn him.

 

Traitor.

 

Michael wasn’t surprised that even the fire would love James.  Who … wasn’t there.

 

“James?” he called, concern turning his voice slightly shaky.  Silence as the very walls held their breath.  Silence and then …

 

“Michael?” came the breathed whisper from behind Michael, the honey of the voice erratic, thickened.  He spun around and saw James.

 

James.  Small, vulnerable James.  Tousled chocolate hair and pale skin and rumpled sweater and .. oh God.  Cracked sapphires, water floods having left two trails of Michael’s evil down that beautiful young face.  Wilted bluebells, raindrops trickling down.  Shaking as sunlight of hope struggled to place a ray on those flowers.

 

The air didn’t dare stir.  The fire flickered hesitantly, light trying to reach and warm skin with cold freckles.

 

Michael held that blue, blue gaze and moved steadily toward James, till he finally reached him and pulled that trembling form into his arms.  James immediately sank into the embrace, boneless.  His hands fisted in Michael’s shirt and a soft gasping murmur was heard of “you’re here, oh god, Michael, here, real …”

 

Michael held him tighter and pressed his lips into that soft satin mop, murmuring “I’m here, I’m real, I’m here … its okay … James ..”

 

Somehow, they migrated onto the sofa, reclining, James snuggled cozily in Michael’s embrace.  The fire leapt merrily, relived flames laughing with glee.  As the opening credits of “Miracle on 34th Street” started to roll, Michael tipped James’ chin up and kissed those pink lips gently, drawing his tongue along that plush lower lip, finally drawing away to smile softly at James, a fond ache in his chest.

 

“Do you want me to get you coffee, James?”

 

James, freckles gleaming cheerfully and blue eyes shining, wet lips parted slightly in a small smile said quietly,

 

“No. Just you. Only you. Always.”

 

“You have me. Always. Always.”


End file.
